HOT POTATO

Another Weekly Writing Challenge I Could’t Resist

I dedicate this post to a great friend of mine who, like the very challenge suggests we ought, taught me to see things as more than they appear to be…

hot potao man

Hot Potato

We’ve all been kids; all played the Game

Had lots of Fun

Getting your chance to have the Spud, give it a Go, give it a Run…

Yes we’ve all been kids; all played the game

But what would you do if it was your name?

Hot Potato Man

Passed around from hand to hand

Giving hours of entertainment to everyone in the land

“But what of me”?

He would say, choking back his dry spud tears with raspy pleads…

“What about what I need”?

The others never get there though; never stopped to think,

Just what becomes of those cuts, bruises, and nicks

Hot Potato Man

Passed around from hand to hand

Giving hours of entertainment to everyone in the land

But, the Game, its precept – did you ever consider –

Just how he could possibly be anything but angry and bitter?

Knowing that the Loser is whoever holds him in the end

Is it really that surprising he has trouble making a friend?

Knowing that as soon as someone feels the uncomfortable burn

They send him along – someone else’s turn.

Yes, I am the Hot Potato Man

Who, after years and years of being passed around from hand to hand

Happened upon a grain of Sand

The grain stuck to my skin with all its might

And after just a little time and some sunlight

Well that grain of sand became a small shimmer of glass

And suddenly the Hot Potato Man realized

Something new had come to pass

Now when he was shuffled from hand to hand

He had a distinguishing mark – this shimmering grain of sand.

While most remained subtly, subliminally entertained

There were a select few that saw this spud had undergone a Change.

Yes, a select few in this superficial land

That realized this was not a Hot Potato

But a Man.

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